A League of Our Own
by MidnightBlueDragon
Summary: JUSTICE is an organization made up of the some of the world's most powerful men and women who all have one goal in their minds: protecting their kids. But as their kids grow up, they realize that their parents just might be the ones' that need protection. And so they create their own league to protect the people that they care about. BrucexDiana ClarkxLois HalXCarol & other couples
1. Chapter 1: Clowns

**It seems like forever since I submitted something to this sight...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**So I was inspired to write this after thinking about how I would have liked to see a younger version of the League hanging out and watching Smallville and Arrow. This story has a lot of ideas and themes taken from Smallville, Arrow, and the Runaways (Marvel comic) that I've put my own twist on.**

**Please, review and tell me what you think. Feel free to ask any questions if anything confuses you.**

* * *

A League of Our Own

Chapter 1: Clowns

July, 2013

July 12, 2013

Nadine West and Martha Wayne approached Martha Kent who was leaning over the railing of the porch, looking down to where the two boys were playing. There was smile plastered to her face as her friends came up next to her and offered her a glass of champagne. Martha Kent gladly accepted it, never taking her eyes off the kids.

"It's such a shame that Jonathon couldn't make it," Nadine placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

Martha Kent chuckled, "You know that this isn't really Jonathon's scene. He's just not comfortable with these types of parties. I didn't want to force him into doing anything that he's not fine with."

"It's truly amazing how well your marriage works, Martha," Martha Wayne commented, "You two are the most different from each other out of all of us, and yet your marriage is the strongest and apparently seamless. There mush be an incredibly strong love between you two."

"There's that," Martha Kent nodded in agreement, "But there's also the reason why all of us are so strongly bonded. We want to protect are son, at all costs. And no matter what happens, if someday we fall out of love with each other –"

"God forbid," Nadine interjected causing Martha to smile warmly before continuing.

"We will always be connected by Clark, our love for him and how much we want to keep him safe. But, that is what we all have in common."

"Amen to that, honey," Nadine's eyes twinkled brightly as she watched Bruce run after Clark who had grabbed the Frisbee out of his hand and sprinted down the yard. "Clark's a devious one, isn't he? Devious but sweet and innocent at the same time. I swear, your son maybe the only one who can pull that combination off. "

"He's going to grow into a fine man," Martha Wayne commented thoughtfully.

"I can say the same thing about Bruce," Martha Kent added, watching as Bruce fell to his knees and Clark dropped the ball and rushed over to him to make sure he was okay. Just as Clark put his hand on his shoulder, Bruce leaped up and sprinted to the ball, scooping it up and running. For a few moments, Clark just watched, dumbstruck like he was trying to comprehend what just happened. The mothers started to giggle as Clark began to run after his friend. "He's a brilliant kid."

"Takes after his father," Martha Wayne shook her head, a smile plastered on her lips. She leaned over the railing further, peering down at her son who had sprinted over to the back porch where the mothers were lounging above. "Bruce, play nicely."

Bruce bounced the ball up and down in his hands as he looked up to his mom. He then glanced at Clark who had caught up. The young Wayne made a face at his mom's order causing Clark to start to giggle. "Yes, mother," Bruce answered, clearly not going to follow through on what she said to do. Clark attempted to cover his mouth to keep the mothers from seeing his laughter but failed terribly.

Sighing, though amused, Martha Wayne turned to her friends and shook her head again, "If the sass continue to grow with him, I just might need to stunt his growth. Keep him eight for the rest of his life."

"It only gets worse as they get older," Nadine added unhelpfully. "But I hear that they eventually grow out of it. I'm still waiting for Rudy to grow out of his attitude."

"He will, eventually," Martha Kent reassured the two women, but wondered quietly to herself when her son would develop an attitude or when the first time that he would talk back to her would be.

"God, she's so embarrassing," Bruce looked annoyed as he led Clark to towards the playground area. The two young boys settled onto the swings and swung back and forth a little.

"You're excited, aren't you?" Clark inquired brightly causing Bruce to raise an eyebrow. "About your party next week?"

"Eh, it'll be alright," Bruce shrugged, throwing the ball up and down.

"Really?" Clark looked disappointed causing Bruce to break out into a wide grin as he tossed the ball to his friend.

"No way, Clark, it's going to be awesome!" Bruce beamed. "Mom hired Haley's Circus to come perform for us. It's going to be the best birthday ever! Ollie's going to be so jealous!"

"That's mean, Bruce," Clark knitted his eyebrows together, frowning.

Bruce stopped swinging and stared at the younger boy for a few seconds before shaking his head, "Never change, Clark. Never change." Bruce stood up and began walking towards the house. A confused Clark jumped off the swing and ran after him.

"What do you mean, Bruce?"

* * *

Thomas Wayne paced back and forth in his study, deep in thought. Finally, he stopped and began to rub his temples, aggravated, "Robert, tell your wife to stop being paranoid! Just because a plane's landing gear malfunctioned when it was still grounded does not mean the next airplane that she will get on will crash. This is not some conspiracy against us. We are safe and well protected."

"_I know, Thomas," _Robert' voice came through on the speaker._ "But you know Moira, she gets incredibly protective of the kids. She's terrified that something will happen to them when we fly down next week." _

"Find a way to get here," Thomas's voice came out to sound almost like an order. But Robert wasn't offended because he was well aware as to why the man was on such an edge lately. Cooling off a little bit, Thomas retracted, "Sorry, it's just I…" He trailed off, knowing that his friend understood.

"_I understand. You want everything to be perfect for your son's birthday. I promise that we'll all be there. We'll drive down or take a train or something. I'll make sure that we're there," _Robert's balanced voice calmed Thomas down and he wondered why it never worked on Moira. Martha had entered as Robert talked but kept her silence, mouthing her question to Thomas who filled her in wordlessly.

Martha nodded to her husband before moving towards the desk, "Robert, dear, could you put Moira on the phone?"

"_Of course, Martha,_" Robert's voice faded out and in a few moments a woman's voice came through instead.

"_Martha_?" Moira's voice sounded relieved.

"Moira, honey," Martha's lips curled into a warm smile that was translated into her words as she took the telephone in her hand and turned off the speaker. "I wanted to see if you were alright," as she spoke the brunette waved her husband out of his office. Thomas grunted but obeyed her command and headed out of office, no longer worrying about the problem at hand. Closing the door behind him, he overheard laughs from down the hall.

Following the voices, Thomas came across Bruce and Clark who were hiding behind a rather large houseplant. They had no idea that he was watching them as they talked in hushed whispered. "Are you sure he won't find us?" Clark whispered softly, biting back a giggle.

"Positive, this is where I always hide from Alfred," Bruce reassured him.

"Well, then, I guess I should tell Alfred about this," the two boys' eyes widened as they turned to see Thomas smirking down on them.

"Hi, Mr. Wayne," Clark hastily greeted, his eyes two innocent orbs of blue.

Bruce made another face –quite similar to the one that he made to his mom earlier that day –before pouting, "You ruin everything."

"You bet I do," Thomas winked playfully to the two kids who crawled out from behind the plant and stood in front of him. He ruffled their hair, "Now stay out of trouble you two or I'm inviting clowns to your party, Bruce."

Bruce shuddered, "I hate clowns!"

"I know," his father replied. "Now be good or else I'm telling them to fill a whole car full of them and to stop by your party. And be polite to your mom." His tone was serious making Bruce well aware that he was not joking –it actually was a legitimate threat. "Yes, father."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne!" Clark added quickly, looking terrified.

Raising an eyebrow, Thomas turned to his son, gesturing to Clark as he spoke, "Is he always like that?"

"Yup," Bruce nodded his head, rolling his eyes at his friend's reaction to his father's threat.

* * *

July 19, 2013

The day of Bruce's birthday, the Wayne Mansion was a literal circus. All of Bruce's friends and their families along with other wealthy and powerful families were gathered along with an entire circus that was set up in their backyard. Haley's Circus had gone all out at Thomas's request, actually pitching a huge circus tent complete with Trapeze acts and demonstrations and other shows that were scheduled throughout the day. There were booths selling a plethora of foods that any eight year old would adore surrounding the tent. A large number of circus performers were roaming through, offering demonstrations for the crowd of people.

"Well, Brucie, I never knew that you were this popular," Bruce turned to see a blonde boy approach him. The Birthday boy smirked at the boy as he came up next to him.

"Ollie," Bruce greeted, "I hope you're enjoying yourself."

"I am. Nice party," Ollie cocked his head to one side, "I'll admit defeat on this one. This is a great party, nice theme. You really went all out on this one. But next year, my party will kick this one's butt."

"Good luck with that one," Bruce smirked at the challenge, "But I'm coming right back with another that will make yours look like child play."

"We'll see about that one," Ollie laughed before offering his hand which Bruce shook, "But seriously, nice work, this party is awesome!"

"I know," Bruce's smirk widened but fell into a frown as a brightly dressed clown walked by them, waving happily to them before moving on. The dark haired boy glared angrily after the clown, "Ugh, I hate clowns."

"You are so weird," Ollie rolled his eyes. "Who hates clowns?" He rested his elbow on Bruce's shoulder but the birthday boy was too busy glaring at the clown to notice. His distraction also led him to not see Clark approach him, a red head trailing after him. As Bruce's eyes narrowed to deepen the glare, the redhead next to Clark reached forward and ran a hand in front of Bruce' glare. Bruce grabbed the hand and shook Ollie's elbow off of his shoulder.

The red head grinned as he shook Bruce's hand off of his wrist, "What is your deal with clowns?"

Ollie cut Bruce off before he could speak, "He has this weird idea that in another world his arch-nemesis is a clown, Lex." Bruce shoved his elbow into Ollie's gut causing the blonde to double over in pain.

"Shut up," Bruce pouted, crossing his arms. Then he added seriously, "But clowns are evil." His blue eyes narrowed again at the thought of them, "I can see it their beady eyes."

Lex looked to Clark for back up on how ridiculous Bruce was acting but much to his dismay, the other boy looked like he completely believed Bruce and was registering the idea of evil clowns. Rolling his eyes, Lex slapped his forehead, "Stop feeding Clark this nonsense, Bruce."

"It's not nonsense," Bruce snapped, "It's true! I've done my research!"

"All I know is that I want some cotton candy before Barry gorges it all," Ollie, who had apparently recovered, pointed his thumb to the cotton candy booth where Barry and Hal were ordering some more, having finished their first order.

"If he throws up on the moon bounce, I'll kill him," Bruce declared.

"I think Lois will beat you to it," Lex pointed out the dark haired girl who snatched the cotton candy out of Barry's hand before he could take another bite. The blonde boy began to whimper, begging her to give it back.

"Lois, stealing candy from kids?" Clark quipped as the four boys reached the small group.

"Hey!" Barry made a face at being called a kid. "I'm older than you!"

Ignoring the blonde, Lois turned to Clark and crossed her arms, "I'm surprised to see you here, Smallville, I thought you were afraid of circuses."

Clark jutted his bottom lip out in a dignified pout, "I'm not afraid of circuses." He then tilted his chin up slightly, adding, "Just clowns." Lois gave him a strange look as Lex interjected.

"And that weird phobia, he gets from Bruce."

"Could you get any lamer, Kent?" Lois demanded, becoming so distracted with Clark that Barry had managed to get the cotton candy back. Meanwhile, half listening to this little fight but half wanting food, Ollie was ordering cotton candy for himself.

"At least people like me!" Clark retorted childishly causing Lois laugh dryly.

"Nice retort. I'm sorry, I forgot that they don't teach good language usage on the farm," Lois smirked proud of herself for that last one.

Blinking with confused eyes, Clark tried to register what she just said, "Why would they teach language on a farm? I mean, what would you do with it? Talk to the animals?" Lois let out an aggravated sigh.

"You're hopeless, Smallville."

"Guys," the group of kids turned to see Iris running towards them. "They're starting the Trapeze show inside the tent."

Barry polished off the last bit of the cotton candy, licking his fingers before rubbing them on his jeans. He grinned widely at the red haired girl before grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the tent, "Come on, Irey! I don't want to miss that!"

"Slow down, Barry!" Iris looked desperately at the rest of the group who were smiling innocently, not moving to save her from the sugar high blonde. She stuck out her tongue at them before yelling at Barry to stop pulling her so fast. Finally, Barry stopped right in front of the entrance and began to hop up and down on one leg.

"I'm so excited!" He beamed. "Mom took me to a one of Haley's Circus's shows last month! It was so awesome!" Iris couldn't help but giggle at the boy's excitement. She reached over and patted him on the head.

"Calm down, you'll freak out the animals," she nudged her head to the trainer who was leading an elephant into the tent. The blonde boy watched the majestic animal with awe as it walked by. During this time, the rest of the group had caught up. Bruce moved past Barry and into the doorway of the tent, stopping to look at his friends and nodding to them to follow him in.

The group of kids moved towards the stands, searching for a place to sit. Hal turned his head and saw standing up and waving towards them was Carol. The brunette grinned at her and raised a hand in greeting before telling the rest of the group that she had saved them all seats. Once they reached her, Bruce slid into the row, ending up next to Diana who was chatting with John. The dark skinned boy leaned forward so that he could see Bruce before saying, "Happy birthday, Bruce."

"Thanks," Bruce nodded, watching out of the corner of his eye as Clark and Lois continued their fight. He always found that relationship interesting –she was the only person that Clark ever got sassy with.

"This better be good," Bruce turned to see Hal was seated behind him.

"Just shut up and watch, Jordan," Bruce ordered before feeling a finger flick his forehead. He turned to give Diana an angry, questioningly look.

"Even though it's your 'birthday' party, you don't have the right to be mean," Diana informed him, as if he should have known better. Turning his back to the front, Bruce rubbed his forehead, grumbling under his breath causing Diana to give him a threatening look and Clark, who was seated in front of them, to start giggling.

"And now ladies and gentlemen!" The ring master's voice boomed through the tent. "And the birthday boy of course," he nodded to Bruce who turned his attention to the middle. "Let me introduce our best trapeze artists, the father and son pair, the Flying Graysons!" Two men from the extremely high platform waved down to the crowd from opposite ends of the tent before they began.

Wide-eyed and speechless, Bruce watched as the two men flipped through the air gracefully, reminding him of a bird. They seemed to be flying as they somersaulted towards each other and grabbed hold of the bars. Then the younger man leaped off the bar, flipped in the air, only to be caught by his father.

"How amazing would it be to be able to do that?" Bruce didn't tear his eyes away from the sight before him to answer Ollie but nodded slowly even though he found it hard to believe that he would ever be able to do something like that.

"I don't know," Clark commented, "It seems kind of scary." Lois punched him in the arm.

"Are you afraid of heights?" Lois asked incredulously.

"Yes, it's a legitimate fear!" Clark declared sulkily.

"No it's not," Hal interjected.

* * *

Bursting into the mansion, Thomas growled under his breath, cursing angrily. "The party's a hit, Thomas. So why are you fuming?" Thomas looked at Robert Queen and Lionel Luthor who had been previously chatting by the window.

"That idiot Haley brought clowns! I told him that I didn't want any clowns! And he brought them anyways. Bruce hates clowns!" Thomas ranted, letting his anger seep out as he vented to his friends and business partners. Robert exchanged a look with Lionel before the latter cleared his throat.

"Thomas," Lionel placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder. "I saw your boy in the audience during the trapeze show. I think that he's enjoying himself greatly. You shouldn't be worried about the clowns that are walking about."

"I'm more worried about what Bruce might do to one of those clowns," Robert joked, "Remember what happened at Hal's seventh birthday?"

"Yes, I'm remembering it now," Lionel scratched his beard, deep in thought. "As I recall, a clown approached your son and then he proceeded to kick him in a very unfavorable place." Robert burst out laugh heartily.

"Why do I even talk to you two?" Thomas wondered out loud, but was feeling less angry about the clown situation. Then realizing something else, Thomas sighed wearily, "Even if Bruce is fine, Martha's going to kill me for this."

"That sweet girl?" The three men turned to see Nadine West and Jessica Jordan join them. "At most, she'll maim you."

"Nadine, Jessica," Robert nodded politely to the two woman. "Why do I have the feeling that you didn't come all this way to talk about clowns?"

The two women exchanged a look, confused as to what the blonde man was talking about before realization hit them. Jessica began to laugh at the memory of her son's birthday party, "I was taken back when I came and saw the backyard swarming with clowns. I thought maybe little Bruce had gotten over his fear of them –or his hatred. Whichever it may be."

It seemed that Thomas had only heard one word from all that as he repeated, "Swarming? God, are there really that many of them?"

"I was joking, Thomas," Jessica informed him, exasperated. "You hardly notice them." Robert and Nadine snickered at this statement, as they both knew that it wasn't true. There actually were quite a few clowns present at the party.

"But we have more pressing matters right now," Nadine spoke gravely, directing all their attentions to her. "I've just been talking to Marcel and Malcolm. They won't be able to make tomorrow's meeting. Now either we can convene here, right now –"

"No," Thomas broke in roughly, "No business today. Today is about family." The others nodded in agreement.

"Then our meeting will get pushed to two weeks from now since the Jones will be out of the country for that long and we all have our own businesses to take care of first," Nadine declared. She watched the others look uncomfortable with this plan. "Look, we don't have a choice. We agreed at the beginning that either we would all meet at every meeting, or not at all."

"I don't like the amount of time that has passed since our last meeting," Robert confessed. "But it's not like we have much of a choice."

"There really shouldn't be any reason for us to meet urgently," Lionel offered, "Since we are incredibly informed of each other's actions."

"Right, I just feel better knowing for certain that we're all on the same page," Robert shrugged.

"We all do, Robert," Jessica assured him grimly, "We all do."

* * *

As they exited the tent, Barry and Hal spoke excitedly about the site that they just seen. Carol walked a few feet behind them, talking more quietly with Diana who had for once, been impressed by the sight they had seen. Breaking off his conversation with Barry, Hal turned around, walking backwards, to look at Carol. "Hey, I'm going to get you that puppy you wanted."

Carol looked at him with amused eyes, "Oh really now? Where are you going to find me a puppy?"

"Right now," Hal's obnoxious smirk widened as he came to a stop. His friends followed his example, all while watching him curiously to see what his next move would be. The brunette turned around and called out, "Hey, clown man, get your shiny, red nose over here!"

Barry shoved him with his elbow, "Don't be rude, Hal."

"What~ever," Hal rolled his eyes just as the clown bounced over. "My lady here," he wrapped his arm around Carol's shoulder, "Would like a doggie. A pink one."

Carol burst out laughing, "This is how you're getting me a puppy?" The clown took out a pink balloon and began to blow air into it in an exaggerated motion. His attention completely engaged by the clown, Barry watched on with glee as he finally finished blowing air into the balloon.

"Well, I can't get you a real a puppy, now can I?" Hal inquired like it was obvious. "Your dad would butcher me." Now with a series of squeaks and scratches, the crown was crafting the long balloon into the intended animal. Diana watched with a disinterested look, not really seeing the appeal. Finally, when the clown was finished, he presented it to Carol with a wide grin on his painted lips.

"It doesn't even look like a dog," Diana commented, scoffing. At this statement, Barry looked horrified.

"Not everyone is as skilled as sculptor as your mother," Hal retorted as Carol accepted the puppy and gave it a once over before hugging it to her chest.

"I actually love this. Thanks Hal, thanks Clown-man," Carol giggled.

"Can you do a monkey?" Barry asked the clown with hopeful, energetic eyes. The clown nodded as he began to blow up another balloon with the same exaggeration as before. Barry turned to his friends and said, "And Bruce says clowns are evil!"

"No, they're just lame," Diana informed him.

Gasping, Barry pointed an accusing finger at her, "Take that back! Clowns are awesome!"

* * *

Approaching his mother who was standing by the cake, Bruce put on a smile before accepting her hug. She kissed the top of his head before smoothing his hair down. "Happy birthday, my love." A tear formed in her eyes, "You're growing up so fast."

"Mooooom," Bruce whined quietly, "You're embarrassing me!" This only made Martha laugh harder .

"So how do you like your party, so far, Bruce?" Martha inquired, but she already knew that answer. She could see the happiness and carefreeness in his eyes. "Is it worth the few month wait?" Bruce nodded, eying the cake out of the corner of his eye. Noticing this, she nodded her head towards it. "Blow out your cake, Bruce," she ordered him softly. "And make a wish."

Bruce turned to the cake. It had a large base cake with two separate towers of cakes emerging from it. The theme was, as the rest of the party, circus, decorated to the smallest detail. It even had a trapeze act going from one of the towers of cake to the other. The rest of the tiers were decorated with all sorts of circus acts –from knife throwers to fire eaters to elephants to lion tamers. And on the base cake, in bright bold layers it read, 'Happy Birthday, Bruce!' and below that were eight candles that were lit. The flames flickered in the light breeze.

Just as he was about to blow out the candles, Bruce stopped himself to think about what he wanted to wish for. He looked back at his mom, who was giving him an encouraging look, and then to his dad who was now standing next to her. Turning back to the cake, Bruce could see that in front of him, all his friends had gathered. Their expressions ranged from patients to Barry's hurry-up-I-want-to-eat look. Smiling happily, Bruce knew what he wanted to wish for.

As he blew out the candles, only one thought was going through his mind.

_I wish that things will always be like this._

* * *

August 1, 2013

Two weeks later…

Exiting the movie theater, a cold breeze welcoming them into the night, the Wayne family made their way down the alley towards where they had parked their car. Thomas had instructed Alfred to stay home instead of driving them to and from the movie. Rather, he had driven his family to the movie theater himself. As Bruce walked ahead, desperately trying to keep a memory of all the scenes and lines that he like from the movie that they had just seen to tell his friends later, Martha clutched onto her husband's arm.

"Tomorrow's the meeting, right?" She inquired, her tone hushed, not loud enough for her son to hear.

"Yes, Marcel just got back into town with his family," Thomas informed her. "Everything should go smoothly tomorrow."

"Stop where you are," Thomas's blood ran cold as he watched a man step out of the shadows, holding a gun towards Bruce. The eight year old started to step back slowly, terrified at what was happening. Martha wrapped her arms around her son, feeling his heart beat quicken she quickly try to calm him down, telling him everything would be okay in a shaky, unsure voice.

"What do you want?" Thomas demanded.

"I want your money and her purse!" The man announced, "Now!" Thomas threw his wallet to the man and Martha's purse. Then the man came forward. "I'll take those pearls too," he reached up and yanked them off of Martha's neck, causing her to scream.

Lunging forward with a punch, Thomas yelled, "Don't touch my family!" He got one punch in before the sound of a gunshot went off. The middle aged man fell to the ground much to his family's horror, clutching where the bullet had pierced his skin.

"Now look at what you made me do?" The man sighed without remorse. He turned it evil smirk to the two remaining Waynes. Quickly, Martha placed herself in front of Bruce.

"Please don't hurt my son," she begged softly, desperately.

"Shut up!" The man growled, "I hate it when people beg!" And without a warning, he shot her as well. Martha moved her hand to the gunshot wound and looked up at the man with horror and then at her son.

"Run," she mouthed, collapsing.

Eyes welling up with scared tears, Bruce registered his mother's last command before he tried to run off. But the older man had also gotten the message so he grabbed Bruce and slammed him against the wall, twirling the gun around in his hand. "Now I can't just let you go unscathed. It wouldn't be fair to your parents." And with a grin, the man shot one more bullet at the remaining Wayne, piercing the night sky with a blood curling scream.

* * *

**Please review and tell me what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2: Fear

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I with that I did, but I don't.**

**I wanted this out earlier but stupid wisdom teeth got in the way (see bottom for more details, if you want).**

**This chapter's more on the sad, drama, plot-driving parts of the overall story. Next chapter, I swear there will be moments where you will smile. But bear with me (what do you expect after yesterday's chapter?)**

**Enjoy and don't forget to review/favorite/ follow! Your support keeps me going/ encourages me! Review and I'll try my best to update once a day or at least once in two days. I really appreciate everyone who favorited, reviewed, and followed. I would list them and formally thank them, but my jaw is killing me and I have to go sleep. Next chapter, I'll start off with that.**

* * *

**A League of Our Own**

**Chapter 2: Fear**

_Feeling his entire body shaking as his back hit the cold, hard brick wall, Bruce watched the man with fearful eyes. Tears were falling out of his control as he kept his eyes on the gun. He didn't want to think about the fact that his parents were sprawled out on the concrete, pooled in their own blood. He desperately sought a way to escape and run away to call for help, before they…_

_Swallowing hard, Bruce didn't want to think about that. He had to focus and not think of how his parents could be dead already. The man let out a cackle that made Bruce shudder, a chill creeping down his spine. The boy's frightened eyes watch lifelessly as their assailant twirled the gun around his finger, in an almost hypnotic manner. __"__Now I can't just let you go unscathed. It wouldn't be fair to your parents."_

_Feeling sick, Bruce turned away from the gun and placed a hand to his mouth, trying to keep his dinner from remerging. Much to his dismay, he doubled over and spilled the contents of his stomach out on the ground. Nauseated, Bruce looked up at the man who was watching him with cruel amused eyes. Wiping a bit of the vomit from his lip, the eight year boy gagged at the taste that was left in his mouth and the overpowering disturbing smell. But none of that compared remotely to the pain that he was feeling from seeing his mother's pool of blood spread to his sneakers. _

_The man gestured him to stand up and Bruce obeyed, slowly steadying himself and putting his hands up to show that he wouldn't try to fight. Just as Bruce opened his mouth to beg the man to not shoot him, the man grinned and fired off another shot._

* * *

A loud, painful scream that pierced the calm hospital environment immediately put everyone on alert. The nurses and doctors closest to the room where the scream originated, sprinted into it, yelling to the secretary to call the code and soon the entire hospital was alerted to the situation. They found the eight year old boy who had been brought in with a gunshot wound nearly a month ago, screaming in his sleep.

The doctor shot him with something to calm him down while one of the nurses spoke to him calmly and in a soft voice, "Everything will be alright, Bruce. You're going to be okay, you're getting better." The boy stopped screaming as a result of the serum that the doctor just given him. Now he looked at the nurse with confused eyes.

"Where am I?" Bruce asked softly, afraid to ask what was really on his mind. Through his screams and the dreams that he had been having over and over again, he was well aware of everything that had happened before he blacked out. He had seen is parents get shot and then he himself at been shot as well. Unfortunately, he remembered every gruesome detail of the attack. It would haunt him for the rest of his life for it was burned into his eyes and his mind. It seemed that wherever or whoever he looked at, he saw his assailant or his parents collapsing right before his eyes.

But the serum finally completely kicked in, leaving Bruce to not receive an answer to silent question. Instead, he fell back into his pillow, back in a restful, deep sleep. The next time that he woke up, the doctors game him another checkup and ordered him to stay at the hospital for a few more days before he could go home. Through the checkups and the visits from nurses and other doctors, Bruce began to slowly piece together what happened in the last month.

Apparently, he had been a coma after an ambulance had brought him to Gotham General Hospital. They had been worried that he wouldn't wake up even the gunshot wound was healing after they took out the bullet. Visitors had come by and sat beside him, begging him to wake up, to open his eyes and show them that he was okay. He got a list of names –all of whom he recognized to be his friends and their families.

But the one thing that no nurse would speak of or inform him off was his parents and what happened to them. As much as he wanted to stay hopeful that maybe they were alive by some miracle, like he was saved, Bruce couldn't bring himself to believe that. It was incredulous and impossible. There was no way that was the actually outcome, no matter how much he wished it was true.

So when Alfred finally arrived to take him home –after the many visits to Bruce since his admittance in the hospital, the eight year old was ready to face the truth. As Alfred helped Bruce slide on a think jacket over his t-shirt, the young boy and closes his eyes and asked the question that had been beating at him for the last two weeks. "Where are my parents?" He turned to Alfred with cold, lifeless eyes that were watering, "What happened to my parents?"

Pursing his lips into tight line, Alfred's eyes were full of compassion and sorrow. His face conveyed the fact that he really didn't want to be the one who told Bruce the truth, but he was well aware that he had to be the one. "Master Bruce, I'm so sorry…"

With those five words, Bruce's previous conjecture was confirmed. He had thought that by accepting it early on, he would be able to take the truth. But the truth stung like a fresh wound. His gut clenched tightly and his abdomen hurt like he had been punched repeatedly. His throat dried up, blocking any words or sounds from exiting his thoughts. All his emotions that he had been suppressing up until now came rushing in, overwhelming to the point that all he wanted to do was to roll up in a ball and cry his heart out, ignoring the cruel world that hard torn away his family.

Tears welling up in his eyes, Bruce turned on his heel and briskly walked out into the hallway. His butler immediately followed him, trying to conjecture the emotions that were running through Bruce and how they would lead him to react to that news. All the while, Alfred called out to his young master, his voice desperately pleading with the younger boy to stop walking away from him and trying to reassure him that everything would all be alright.

This statement made Bruce pick up his pace, clenching his fists and no longer fighting the hot tears. Suddenly, the eight year old started to sprint down the hall and towards the stairs. He sprinted up the stairs as fast as he legs would carry him. Alfred was hot on his heels, no longer talking in calm tones. Now the older man knew exactly what Bruce was about to do and was terrified that he wouldn't be able to stop him. "Bruce!" Alfred had dropped all formalities, showing how desperate he truly was. "Please, stop, your parents' wouldn't have wanted this!"

"Shut up!" Bruce yelled, finding a burst of energy in him that allowed him to surge forward. He picked up speed miraculously, his anger and sorrow burning through his veins. "You don't know what they wanted!" At this point, Bruce had reached the final door –the one that led to the roof. Much to Alfred's dismay, who was a flight of stairs behind, the door was unlocked and Bruce burst through. Screwing all of his proper upbringing, Alfred cursed Bruce's determination as he raced onto the roof.

Feeling his gut wrench as he watched a sobbing Bruce stand on the ledge, Alfred approached him carefully and slowly so that he would trigger any sudden action from the orphaned boy. He could hear Bruce's sobs over the traffic down below them. And then there was something else. The young boy began to whimper, "I-It's my fault. I begged them to take me to see that movie. I didn't care t- that it was so late. It was my fault that they were in that alley! I should have died, Alfred." His voice went quieter, "I shou-should have died with them."

And the boy made his move: taking a small stop forwards. The next step would seal his face. Fortunately, Alfred took the opportunity while the boy was crying to get closer. Now he leaped forward and wrapped his arms around Bruce, pulling him off the edge and into his arms. The butler held his shaking master as the eight year old broke out into move violent sobs. His screams were pained and full of sadness and loneliness.

"You're not alone, Bruce," Alfred whispered softly, "I'll never leave you. I'll keep you safe.

* * *

It was a terribly awkward situation that the eight year old boy and his butler were in as they settled back into the Wayne Mansion. When Bruce reentered his home for the first time since the murder of his parents, his features looked sore and pained as he looked around the dark house. When the butler looked his way, Bruce turned his head so that he couldn't see the expression on his face.

But once Alfred did get a glimpse of the tortured expression on the young boy's face. There was something behind the nostalgia, anger, and suffering. Managing to steal another direct look at his master's true feelings, Alfred finally was able to find the hidden component –guilt. The butler cursed himself for not realizing it soon.

And so a couple days later, when serving dinner, Alfred off-handedly made a comment about how the country might do Bruce some good. The only result from his innocent offer was for Bruce to storm off to his room, claiming that he wasn't hungry and he didn't want to be treated like a child.

The next day, Alfred agreed with the boy and came out directly, "Master Bruce, if you are at all uncomfortable in this house…whenever you feel as though this place haunts you or reminds you of memories that you don't want to be remember, let me know. I can rent you an apartment anywhere you'd like, Master Bruce."

Mustering up a glare, Bruce sighed. The glare fell and he just stared at the wall, avoiding eye contact with his butler. His voice was soft, different from what he had been using with Alfred since he had received news of his parents' passing. "Alfred, I want to stay here. It's the only thing that I have left from parents. I don't want to leave it behind me and move on. I want to live here until I die. So that they will always be around me."

And they left it at that. Alfred didn't press him about the matter, knowing that when the time came and Bruce finally did want to put the past behind him, the young boy would come to him himself and tell him what his plan as. And Alfred would comply, but not before making sure it as what was best for the child that was now in his care. The next few months dragged on but the two males made their lives the best that they could.

Alfred had a purpose –taking care of Bruce. Making sure that no one hurt him. Making sure that he didn't hurt himself. And it gave Alfred the energy that he needed to deal with the loss of Thomas and Martha. And this purpose in his life kept him alive. As the days past, he would notice another white hair emerging. And he was well aware that the events of the last couple of months were weighing just as heavily on him as it was on Bruce. With each passing day, Alfred felt his energy diminish. But every time he took a look at Bruce and his scared but strong eyes, the butler's flame was reignited.

On the other hand, much to the dismay of the butler, as each day past, Buce was becoming more and more lifeless. Some days it was like he no longer was living but rather just a zombie moving through motions of his life. In the first few weeks after his parents' death, Bruce completely cut himself off from his friends. The last person that he talked to was Clark and that conversation was cut off just as quickly as it had begun.

Thinking about the people who had once made him so happy now made Bruce even more depressed if that was possible. It's not that he blamed them for having their parents and their families. But he couldn't help but feel angry and envious whenever he was around them or talking to them. So he did the only thing that he knew to do – he distanced himself from everyone that he had once cared for and loved.

Unlike Alfred, Bruce didn't have a purpose. He didn't have a reason to live anymore. These were the thoughts that were running through his mind as he descended the stairs of the mansion, hands in the pocket of the black sweat shirt that he wore. Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and looked out the huge window above the front door which was directly across from the grand staircase.

Rain pelted against the window, barely visible the dark knight. And just as suddenly as it arrived, a streak of lightning lit up the sky. A few moments later, as Bruce expected, thunder exploded through the sky. The young boy offered a bitter, ironic smile as he thought about how he used to be so terrified of the thunder. He and Clark both hated it. While Bruce always was truly terrified by the explosion in the sky, he had always assumed that it wasn't fear that drove Clark crazy but rather the loud noise just hurt his ears. Wanting to smile at the memory of his friends and the good times they had together, Bruce couldn't find it inside him to do that. Instead, he just thought about how nothing really scared him anymore, not after what he had been through.

Shaking these thoughts out of his head, his mind going blank to avoid the pain of missing the past, Bruce continued to descend the stairs and he made his way to the kitchen where just before he entered, he overheard Alfred talking to someone. Hiding behind the door frames in the shadows, Bruce held his breath, listening closely. There wasn't anyone there so it had to mean that he was on the phone.

"Yes, Mrs. Kent," Alfred nodded more to himself than to the woman. "I understand what you want to do. I know that he needs a family. A real one. I'd love for that family to be yours, as much as I hate the idea of losing him. But I don't think that he's ready for such a big change. He's a stubborn one. As Alfred paused, Bruce slowly began to piece everything together. He held back his gasp and his fury, not being able to believe that Alfred was still talking to that woman who had gall to suggest that he wanted to be adopted or taken in like stray dog.

"Alright, I will ask him," Alfred finally conceded, "Have a nice night, Mrs. Kent." The butler hung up the phone, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair, deep in thought.

"Why didn't you tell her to go to hell?" Alfred winced before turning around to see Bruce standing in the doorway, arms crossed and pissed.

"Master Bruce, she just wants the best for you," Alfred attempted to reason with the boy but he wasn't having any of it.

"No, shut up!" Bruce snapped sending a death glare to his guardian. "Leave me alone! If you truly wanted what was best for me you would have told that woman to leave me the hell alone and stay out of my life! I don't need her help and I don't need another family!" With that said, ignoring Alfred calling after him, Bruce stormed off to his father's office. Once there, he locked the door behind him and leaned against the door. The tears that he had been holding in since the incident on the hospitals roof finally fell. Sobbing hysterically, Bruce slid down the door and buried his face into his hands, the warm liquid running down his hands.

When the tears finally stopped falling, Bruce struggled to his feet and trudged towards his father's big mahogany desk. Moving around the desk, the young boy reached up and ran his hand gingerly over the large painting on the wall behind the desk. It was a portrait of the family: Thomas and Martha with Bruce standing in front of them, grinning. Everything was perfect in the portrait. And now staring at it, Bruce felt a combination of hatred and love for the piece.

He slammed his two fists against the painting before resting his forehead on the painting; once again the tears began to fall. "I promise that I won't replace you. I'll never forget you. I will honor your memory till the day that die." Bruce declared with all the determination that he had in his body as he narrowed his eyes. "And I will make them pay. Every mugger. Every creep. Every murderer." He collapsed to his knees, still crying but his words were a promise that he would follow through on. "I'll strike terror in their hearts and take them down like they took my family away."

Hearing a rattling nose, Bruce looked around him, wiping the tears from his soggy eyes. Then they fell on the vent that was in front of him. There was something there, stuck inside it. With a moment's hesitation, Bruce began to open the vent. And when he did, a swarm of bats exited the vent, flying past him causing him to fall back, shrieking in terror. Covering his head, Bruce scrambled to his feet and ran to the door. Hastily and nerve-wrenchingly messing with the old lock, Bruce eventually got it open and he slammed the door behind him. He sighed in relief as he leaned his back against the door once again, and closed his eyes.

The feeling of cold metal to his forehead, dread, and anger brought him back to reality. A lump formed in his throat that he couldn't just swallow away. Bruce opened his eyes slowly to look into the eyes of the man who killed his family. "Now, Brucie, can't have you alive. Don't look at me like that. I already told ya before, it's not fair."

Terrified, Bruce shut his eyes, embracing himself for the gunshot, losing all the courage that he had five minutes ago.

* * *

**Great, another cliff-hanger that I leave Bruce for dead. I promise that if Bruce gets through this, I won't end another chapter with Bruce's life hanging on the line for a while. **

**My commentary on this chapter (for anyone who cares):**

**This literally took me from when I got home at around 4 Pm 8/29/13 to 2:27 AM 8/30/13. I blame my oral surgery this morning, the anesthesia they gave me, and the medicine I have been taking for the pain and bleeding. I swear there are times that I wanted to bang my head against the wall because this chapter was driving me crazy. It might have also taken longer because in insist on watching Supernatural while I write it. I'm actually surprised that I only watched four episodes while watching it. The rest of the time I was either goofing off, listening to music, replacing the bloody gauze in my mouth (oddly therapeutic (JK)), or too lazy to play the next episode. **

**So back to the story: I wanted to delve a little into Bruce's transformation from a kid form a rich family to a justice seeking vigilante without really going too far into it. You'll see soon why I only spent one relatively short chapter on Bruce's transformation of mindset. Anyways, I realize that these first two chapters were very Bruce heavy, but the way I envisioned the story it all began with Bruce and his parents' mugging in front of the movie theater. The next chapters will bring in the other characters that I will focus on, giving a more balance allocation of time. **

**Long story short, there will be more of the other characters as well as more of Bruce and how he changes with time. **

**But review and tell me what you think!**


End file.
